


I Sit Beside the Fire

by RiderOfBrohon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Tolkien Secret Santa 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiderOfBrohon/pseuds/RiderOfBrohon
Summary: Late at night, Bilbo thinks.





	

Late at night, Bilbo thinks.

He thinks of the plush arm chair that sits abandoned in his smail and of the dust gathering on his parents portraits.

He thinks back to when the quest first began, when no one quite knew why he came along, least of all himself. He hadn’t been built for long days of riding horse back or for only three meals a day, at most. No one would have argued had it been said that Bilbo didn’t belong with the group of Dwarven warriors. In fact, Bilbo likely would have been the first to agree with that sentiment.

Bilbo often thinks of the night in Rivendell when fireflies shone around Thorin and himself. How the shimmering lights seemed to draw stories of childhood years from the normally closed off king. He thinks of the grandfather Thorin had to watch slowly go mad.

He tries not to think of Thorin subscumming to the same illness.

Bilbo thinks of the darkness in Goblin Town and Mirkwood, no matter how hard he tries not to. He thinks of the suffocating darkness they both had, of how his sword could only light so far in front of him. When his thoughts turn to the murderous creatures faced in the caves of the mountains and the limbs of the forest trees, his blood runs cold and goose flesh covers his arms.

Sometimes thinking leads to “what if”’s. When that happens, Bilbo decides to remember.

On nights where he’s overwhelmed with melancholy he remembers his mother's vivid tales of adventure. She would tell him of trips to Bree where she drank Men under the table without so much as a hiccup. Sometimes she’d tell him the history of Middle-Earth, her voice low and haunting in the dim light of the fire. Memories of his mother always brought memories of his father with them. 

Bilbo remembers his father spending as much time in the kitchen as he could, coming up with new recipes for their small family to try. When he needs to laugh, Bilbo recalls his father’s stories of his courting Belladonna. Or, more accurately, Belladonna’s courting of him.

He remembers Bungo and Belladonna’s love for his each other most of all.

They never did like being without the other for long.

Bilbo remembers the events of the quest with a sense of awe. Everything that they experienced seems like something he could only have hoped to dream up. And yet he remembers the long days spent walking and the nights spent staring at a deep and endless sky in perfect clarity.

He promises himself he’ll never forget.

  


Reminiscing Bifur’s attempts at communicating on the early days of the trip makes Bilbo smile and remember the rest of the company’s early attempts at including him.

Swapping recipes with Bombur by the fireside, discussing differences in clothing and etiquette with Dori to pass the time on the long rides. Remembering Nori’s attempts at teaching him to ride never fail to make him laugh, while Dwalin’s attempts at teaching him to fight, brought about after his pitiful attempt at fighting outside the goblin tunnels, were less enjoyable to remember(though they got funnier as time went by).

Bofur taught him to whittle when they shared watch shifts and Bilbo taught him some Hobbitish drinking songs in return. He and Óin compared medicinal techniques and Bilbo listened patiently when Glóin told him about his family in Ered Luin. Fíli and Kíli’s first attempts at getting to know Bilbo didn’t go as well as the young dwarrows had hoped, and Bilbo tries very hard not to remember those incidents.

Balin and Ori were the easiest to talk to early in the quest, both enjoying simply sitting in companionable silence. Bilbo remembers how nervous Ori was when he first approached Bilbo, and he laughs when he compares it to how Ori is now. 

When he sees Sting, Bilbo remembers Azog’s attack. He remembers the fear that fueled him to protect Thorin’s unmoving body though he barely knew how to use his sword.

And he remembers Thorin’s sudden change of attitude on the Carrock. His admittance to past wrong doings and tight hug leave Bilbo warm though it’s now simply a memory. 

Bilbo remembers the few days spent at Beorn’s with a soft smile. Remembers shared stories of childhoods and touches to shoulders and backs becoming more familiar as time passed. 

He remembers the look of amazement and relief he received when he freed his friends from Thranduil’s dungeon with pride. He remembers the frantic worry in Thorin’s voice when they washed ashore on the river banks with a skipped beat in his chest. 

He remembers every shared touch and smile without trying. 

  


Bilbo often thinks of the past.

Sometimes he thinks of the future.

But every night, as his eyes grow heavy and his breaths grow deeper, Bilbo looks at the Dwarf sleeping across from him and basks in the present.

  


Late at night, Bilbo thinks.

Late at night, Bilbo smiles.

* * *

_I sit beside the fire and think // Of all that I have seen,_  
_Of meadow-flowers and butterflies // In summers that have been._

 _I sit beside the fire and think // Of people long ago,_ _And people who will see a world // That I shall never know._

**Author's Note:**

> My gift to becomingastarmaster on tumblr for the 2016 Tolkien Secret Santa gift exchange! I hope you enjoyed<3


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